Remember Me
by Fleet Sparrow
Summary: This explains the connection between Sawyer and Patty that was hinted at in my story Patricia Wilcox: Matchmaker. Reviews needed.
1. Introductions

All righty. This explains the relationship between Sawyer and my character Patty from "Matchmaker." It's going to take place all in the past and will probably be several chapters. Please review and don't flame me. Danke!

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"Kitty! Kitten! Kitty! O, where are you!"

Patricia Wilcox ran through a back-alley near her home, desperately looking for her cat. The bottom of her white knee-length skirt was slightly dirty and her shoes were covered in mud. Her blond hair was pulled up in a bun, though the pouring rain was wearing it down.

"Kitty!" she called again. "Where are–O!"

Lying on the ground, bloodied and beaten, was a man not too much older than her. She hesitated, not knowing whether anyone was still around. Getting over her fear, she pulled him up and drug him back to her house.

Once she had gotten him in an extra bed and taken off his soaked clothes to dry them, she started tending to his wounds. He stirred as she cleaned the cut over his eye.

"Where–what–get away from me," he murmured.

"I won't hurt you," Patty said. "Someone else already did that."

"What?" the man said, opening his eyes. "Who're you?" He pulled away and tried to sit up. "What–Agh!" He cried out from the pain in his side.

"Lay down," Patty said, "and hold still. Someone beat you up very bad and now I'm treating you. Your clothes are drying." She put some peroxide on his cut and he winced. "What's your name? I'm Patty."

"Sawyer," he said. "You a nurse or something?"

"No. I'm a psychologist," she said, moving to the cuts on his chest. "What happened to you?"

"I got into some trouble and I got beaten to a damn pulp," he said. "Sorry. I–did you say my clothes are drying?"

"Yes," she said. "Don't worry: most people are shy about their bodies."

"S'not that I'm shy," he said, "just wasn't expecting that."

She giggled. "There," she said. "All finished. Just rest and I'll check on you in the morning and bring your clothes."

"Okay," he said. "G'nite."

"Good night," she said, closing the door and turning off the light.

They did not know how their meeting would affect the rest of their lives.


	2. Morning

I've been away for a very long time with homework and stuff. I can't honestly say this is for loyal readers, because I don't have any, but for anyone else, I'm back. I'm advising you read the first chapter before this one or it will make no sense. Please review, stupid though it is. Toodles.

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"_Wake up, Sweetie! I made bacon and eggs for you. I know their your favorite."_

I haven't had those in a long time.

"_Wake up. Wake up."_

"Wake up."

Sawyer opened his eyes and blinked. There was so much light in the room. The little blond woman–Patty?–was smiling down on him.

"Good morning."

"Mornin'," he slurred. He tried to prop himself up and winced at the amount of pain he was in.

"Coffee?" she asked, brightly, picking up a pot.

"Got any whiskey?" he asked, pulling the blanket up as it slid down his waist. He'd cross that bridge when he found out how much she had.

"No," she said, briskly. "You don't need any."

"Says you," he muttered bitterly.

"Yes I do," she said. "Now, do you want coffee?"

"No," he said. "Can I have my clothes now?"

"Well," the little English blond said. "I suppose you could. If I chose to give them to you. Would you like to rephrase that?"

"No. I give up," he said, slumping back down into the bed.

"Who did this to you?" she asked, putting some bacon and eggs onto a plate.

"Just muggers," he said.

"You said you 'got into some trouble'," she said.

"What, you record what I say?"

"I just remember these things. Besides, your money wasn't missing."

"You went through my pockets?" he asked as a wave of panic swept over him. His letter was there along with a long list of possible marks. If she saw that––.

"I didn't think you wanted your items going through the wash," she said. "Eat."

"I'm not hungry," he said.

"Nonsense," she said. "You were nearly beaten to death. You're hungry."

"I am not–"

"Don't make me shove this down your throat."

"Alright. Alright. I'll eat," he said, taking a piece of bacon. He took a bite. "So what were _you _in a dark alley?"

"I was looking for my cat," she replied, "and don't talk with your mouth full."

"Yes mother."

"If you want your clothes, they're at the end of the bed. I expect you to eat all of the food there," she said, standing up. "And come down when you're dressed." She strode out of the room and shut the door.

"Sir, yes, sir!" he said once she left. He took a deep breath to calm down, and got up.


End file.
